


The East Wind Takes Us All

by bavarian_angel



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Drinking, Fix-It, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 08:18:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5532293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bavarian_angel/pseuds/bavarian_angel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“No, dear girl, there’s nothing you can do for me. Because you can’t bring back the dead, not for a second time, and sure as hell can’t turn around the east wind...”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The East Wind Takes Us All

**Author's Note:**

> For my dear Eva ♥

John couldn’t feel anything. Not the coldness of the pavement he was sitting on, not the sagging wetness of his drenched jacket, not the burning fire of the whiskey in his throat. Looking up at the grey sky, which he could barely make out between the buildings on either side of the narrow alley, the lingering numbness of his mind took control of his wrecked body.

This was what his life had become. A comfy flat, two inseparable arm chairs, the sound of a violin - all just distant memories now. What had once looked so bright, had fallen to dust.

Taking another sip of the almost empty whiskey bottle, a thought formed in his mind. A well acquainted thought by now, always pushed back before, but now looking more than just promising.

John let the bottle slip from his shaking fingers before reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket. The usual cold metal felt welcoming. He just let his hand rest on it for a moment when very old memories came rushing back. He had been in this situation before. Way too long ago. Life had come in between. Just like life had been ripped away from him now. Sighing and closing his eyes, John wrapped his fingers around the gun.

A loud bang suddenly filled the alley.

Letting go of his gun, John opened his eyes. He had seen and heard enough in his life to know the sound of a body - or possibly several - crashing into a trash bin. His alcohol numbed mind only allowed him to slowly turn his head towards the back of the alley where sounds of a fight were coming from.

“You won’t even let me do this in peace,” John mumbled, about to order his body to get up when he noticed a man in a long coat running towards him, immediately stopping him in his movements.

_No, it can’t be. No, this time it can’t be..._

Swallowing against the lump in his throat, John let himself fall back against the wall. Knocking his fist against his head, he willed the pictures to go away, only realising after a moment that it wasn’t a black but a brown coat that man was wearing and indeed it wasn’t Sherlock’s voice booming through the alley.

“Run!”

Staring at the fast approaching figure who seemed to drag a young girl behind him, John simply wasn’t able to move - especially not when his mind obviously played a huge trick on him. It just couldn’t be. There wasn’t a huge creature with two heads chasing that man and the girl.

“Run!”

Only a couple of meters away from him now, the young girl yelled at him before shrieking when she looked over her shoulder.

John couldn’t tell what it was that made him move his hand again. His mind was still in slow motion, when a well known programme kicked in. Again, his fingers wrapped around the gun and this time the sound of a shot echoed in the alley, followed by a dull thud when the strange creature dropped dead.

For a moment the world stopped spinning and John was sure that never before did he have such a vivid hallucination. It had to be one strange brand of whiskey he had been drinking.

Still staring at the corpse of the creature, John willingly ignored the couple standing in front of him, only blinking when the man in the _brown_ coat crouched down and looked at him. Noticing the mixture of remorse, worry and relief on his face, John decided that this was most definitely a strange hallucination.

“Hello there. I’m the Doctor and this is Rose. And I think you just saved our lives.”

Frowning, John tried to focus on him before slowly shaking his head.

“Sure, a doctor... I don’t need a doctor anymore...”

Reaching for his bottle, John swallowed what little was still in there. He noticed his two hallucinations having a silent conversation, trying not to pay attention. He was just about to yell at the two to finally go away, to leave him in peace and take the bloody two-headed creature with them, when he felt the girl touching his shoulder.

“Is there anything we can do for you?”

He looked into her eyes, the compassion in there almost making him cry.

“No, dear girl, there’s nothing you can do for me. Because you can’t bring back the dead, not for a second time, and sure as hell can’t turn around the east wind...”

 

+*+

 

Leaning heavily on his cane, John opened the door to his therapist’s office, surprised to see a young blonde girl sitting behind the desk which was normally occupied by an elderly grumpy lady.

“Hello. The name’s Watson. I have an appointment with Mrs. Thompson.”

The girl smiled, looking down at the calender in front of her. Watching her, John got a strange feeling, not being able to place it at all. “Ah, yes, Dr. Watson. Unfortunately, Mrs. Thompson won’t be able to make the appointment today, but she send her colleague. And the Doctor is just about ready to see you now.”

The smile still plastered on her face, she nodded towards the door on her right. About to say that it was alright and that he would come back next week, John wanted to decline her offer with the other doctor - did she actually mention a name? - but somehow didn’t seem to be able to.

Nodding towards the young girl, John entered the room, a bit taken back when he saw a man in the armchair where normally his therapist was sitting. Clad in a brown suit, strangely combined with trainers, and a wide smile on his face, this man certainly didn’t seem like a therapist to John.

“John! Please have a seat!”

Reluctantly, John took the offer, still eyeing up the strange man.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch your name. Doctor who?”

“Oh, just the Doctor. And don’t worry, Mrs.Thompson will be up and running again next week, but I simply didn’t want you to miss this opportunity.”

“Well, I don’t know what Mrs. Thompson told you...?”

“To be honest, John, I think it’s best to continue with her where you left off last time when you see each other again. Today, I actually want to talk to you about the east wind...”

 

+*+

 

John looked around the barren field of the airport before his eyes found Sherlock in front of him. There was a terrible feeling of deja-vu inside of him, only this time they were face to face and neither of them were standing on a roof top.

“So, here we are... and I can’t even think of a single thing to say.”

“Neither can I.”

John sighed, biting his lip. This was so wrong. But then, as a former soldier, he knew of this situation - defeat without any hope.

“The game is over.”

“The game is never over, John. But there may be some new players now. It’s okay. The east wind takes us all in the end.”

 _The east wind..._ He just looked at Sherlock, saw the sadness in his eyes, but suddenly his heart was hammering in his chest, deafening his ears for a moment.

“What’s that?!”

“It’s a story my brother told me when we were kids. The east wind, this terrifying force, that lays waste to all in his path, seeks out the unworthy and plucks them from the earth...”

_I want you to remember my words, John. One day this east wind will come and it will take away the most important person in your life. Make sure not to let him go. Make sure the east wind doesn’t take him. Your future depends on it..._

John swallowed. The memories of that day - of that more than strange therapy session - were more alive than anything else right now. In his mind, there was this strange man in his suit, repeating those words over and over again... And suddenly, standing here on this runway, everything made sense.

“So what about you then? Where are you actually going now?”

“Oh, some undercover work in Eastern Europe.”

“For how long?”

“Six months - my brother estimates. He’s never wrong.”

“And then what?”

“Who knows... John... There’s something I should say, I meant to say always and I never have. As it’s unlikely we’ll ever meet again, I might as well say it now...”

“Oh, shut up, you...”

His body reacting faster than his mind, John grabbed Sherlock’s coat, pulling him into a kiss. Finally, after all these years, all those suppressed feelings, this was the only right thing - finally tasting those sweet lips, holding on for dear life and swearing to never let go. Forgetting everything else around them, John’s mind only registered on thing - after a moment of hesitation - he felt Sherlock’s arms wrapping around him, pulling him even closer. An eternity later, they pull apart, shock still evident on Sherlock’s face when John laid his hand on his cheek, his thumb slowly caressing the soft skin.

“Tell your east wind that the only way he can have us is together. I’m not letting you go this time. Not again...”

There was still so much he wanted to say, but seeing the shy smile on Sherlock’s face John knew that there were no more words necessary.

And for a moment he thought he could hear the east wind whispering - and it came as a very strange whooshing sound...

 


End file.
